


Cold Second Chances

by NuttersandAcorn (orphan_account)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Nuclear War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NuttersandAcorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold. Very cold. So cold, no one in the rescue team suspects any of the untrained soldiers are alive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caidyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidyn/gifts).



The temperatures were dropping fast. Lestrade couldn’t understand why he didn’t live in a place where the weather was much more stable - America, for example. All they had was a simple, country-wide desert and heat. Heat sounded much better than this. At least it wasn’t windy and cold. Lestrade had tough enough of a time keeping his hair under control as it was.

It had only been warm for a minute. One bloody minute.

“C’mon, guys. Pick up the pace. If there’s anyone still alive out here, they won’t last long in this cold.”

Sally huffed and rubbed her arms. “So says the one bringing a rescue party into the heart of the wasteland. They’re usually all dead when we get there, anyway. I mean…” She gave a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ve been through every area and there’s no one alive so far.”

Sherlock, sulking ahead of everyone as he was kicked out of the main group, stopped and turned around. “Last year, there were fifteen we saved,” he rasped. “Get your facts a little more straight next time. Or, you know, just not come with us.” Sally opened her mouth to protest, but Lestrade threw her a glare.

“Our job here is not to argue. Our job is to find survivors. Start looking, people! We’ve hit the last area. It’s too cold for too many of the dangerous creatures, but still, keep an eye out.”

The group disbanded immediately. Sherlock went off, presumably to sulk and possibly just do nothing, like usual. _Lucky bastard_ , Lestrade thought as he pulled his coat tighter around his body.  _He doesn’t seem to feel the cold._

This year had been a particularly cold one, by anyone’s standards. It has been a week since they started on this, and by far, there were more cold and windy days than anything warm. Sometimes, it even rained. Rain was rare, but rain was very dangerous. The team blundered on, searching behind bushes and in ditches, but the cold slowed them down immensely. One more week of this and Lestrade could see his family again. The thought of that made him smile a bit; however, the smile soon faded as his team returned with no news on any survivors.

The last to return was Anderson, and he shook his head in exasperation. His only comment of, “No, nothing,” caused Lestrade to growl in frustration. Anderson continued. “I’ve been telling you, boss. We need to come earlier. We could stand outside and save more people.”

“Yeah, that went well for my grandfather. They saw him as dangerous and threw so many pine cones at him  _at the same time_  that he actually got a concussion from it. Pine cones! Those bunker dwellers are nuts.”

“Then why do you even try to save them?”

“Because everyone deserves a second chance. Where’s Sherlock?”

The answer came in the form of the sound of his laser RCW blasting in the air five times. The crowd of searchers shifted anxiously, and whispers started to circle. Someone had to punch Lestrade in the shoulder for him to realize what had happened. “Oh…”

A sixth shot went off. Sherlock hadn’t just found someone, but that someone was  _alive_. Lestrade didn’t hesitated in taking off in the direction of the shots. Ice had formed, and he slipped around on it helplessly as more shots of  _Hurry up!_ rang out. They were coming from behind a rock and down in a small ditch.

Sherlock had, in fact, found two. The blonde man sprawled out on the ground looked terrified, shaking from the cold. Of course, having someone like Sherlock point a gun like his laser RCW in his face would be, in fact, terrifying. With the amount of people crowding around him, his terror grew, and Lestrade couldn’t help but to yell, “Shove off!” whenever anyone came too close.

He was… cute. Pale and bloodied, but still cute. His leg was awfully mangled, his back left shoulder was bleeding from a gunshot wound, and his dark-haired buddy was faring a bit better. He had tried to stop the bleeding, thankfully. “Names? What are your names?”

The dark-haired one spoke up, his voice trembling quietly. “Garrett. G-Garrett Jones. Th-This is John Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the good [Caidyn](http://themostawkwardreindeerofall.tumblr.com/), who requested the prompt of “Nuclear War”. I’ve actually been writing this AU for a while, but what I wrote here isn’t in the actual story. It’s just another POV of it. (The actual thing is in John’s POV). But that’s not the point here.


End file.
